


all the mirrors are broken (we're breathing in the smoke)

by blackkat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Akatsuki Hatake Kakashi, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Anal Sex, Angst, Desk Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Hokage Uchiha Obito, Hurt/Comfort, KakaObi Week 2019, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-19 22:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17609828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Obito gives up on getting the coffee off his hand. He takes a breath, steeling himself, and looks up. “What do youwant, Kakashi?” he demands. “Hasn’t Akatsuki done enough damage to Konoha already?”The leader of Akatsuki smiles, like Konoha isn't a smoking ruin outside the window. Like Obito wasn’tdeaduntil Naruto managed to convince Nagato that taking over the world wasn’t the way to bring peace. Obito saw Minato, in that dark place, finally got to apologize, but—His breath shakes as it escapes his lungs, and Kakashi comes to a stop three long paces away, watching him with the dark grey eyes that Obito remembers all too well.





	all the mirrors are broken (we're breathing in the smoke)

**Author's Note:**

> For KakaObi Week Day 2: Hokage!Obito | Akatsuki!Kakashi.

“You know, I finally found out why Madara recruited me specifically.”

Obito twitches so hard he practically flings his coffee across the floor. He spins, and the sudden hummingbird pace of his heart doesn’t go down by any significant degree when he sees the man who’s apparently let himself into Obito's office without so much as a knock. Then again, Obito supposes manners aren’t something they teach in missing-nin school.

“Is it because you're a _creepy bastard_?” he demands, setting his almost-empty cup down on the floor with a grimace and trying futilely to shake the remaining coffee off his hand. Very pointedly, he doesn’t look at the red-splattered black cloak, the tantō worn openly—menacingly, given that blade’s reputation. Doesn’t look at the cloth half-mask, or the hat as it’s swept off to reveal silver hair, and doesn’t glance over as long, prowling steps carry the intruder around the perimeter of his office.

There's a hum, not a denial, and the man pauses in front of the portraits of the former Hokage, eyeing them critically. His gaze lingers longest on the last, and after an endless moment he asks, “Has the Godaime woken up yet?”

Obito doesn’t let his breath shake. “No,” he says, and meetings with the councilors have given him the practice to keep his voice steady when all he wants to do is curl up in a ball underneath his desk. “She might wake up at any point, but we don’t know. It’s not something any of the medics have experience with.”

“That’s a shame,” the intruder says, and almost manages to sound like he means it. “But I have to say, you look good in red.”

Obito gives up on getting the stickiness off his hand. He takes a breath, steeling himself, and looks up. “What do you _want_ , Kakashi?” he demands. “Hasn’t Akatsuki done enough damage to Konoha already?”

The leader of Akatsuki smiles, like Konoha isn't a smoking ruin outside the window. Like Obito wasn’t _dead_ until Naruto managed to convince Nagato that taking over the world wasn’t the way to bring peace. Obito saw Minato, in that dark place, finally got to apologize, but—

His breath shakes as it escapes his lungs, and Kakashi comes to a stop three long paces away, watching him with the dark grey eyes that Obito remembers all too well.

“This was Nagato's doing,” Kakashi says, light, like it’s a joke. “He went off on his own. Akatsuki didn’t have any orders to attack Konoha. Not yet.”

The chill that runs down Obito's spine could be fury or fear, and he can't even begin to tell. “You _destroyed_ our _village_!” he snarls, and can only spare a fraction of his attention to the hope that no one hears. Kakashi’s proved time and again that he doesn’t care about collateral. And—gods, what if Sakura, Sasuke, Sai, and Naruto are on their way? His team drags him out to dinner sometimes, and the recovery work from the invasion doesn’t mean they won't try it tonight. If they see Kakashi here, if Kakashi sees _them_ —

“Nagato destroyed _your_ village,” Kakashi corrects evenly, not even a trace of inflection to show that the words have even touched him. “Konoha is the place that pushed my father to suicide because he clung to its ideals. I’m not going to be another victim of its hypocrisy.”

Obito's eyes feel hot, and he digs the heel of his palm against his eyes, wills himself not to cry. He used to _worship_ Kakashi, a bright, brilliant boy who finished the Academy in one year and could face down chuunin by the time he was seven. And to see the Kakashi in his memories fall to _this_ —it hurts. Obito will never be able to forget the moment the Akatsuki leader’s mask fell away to reveal Kakashi’s face, and he’ll never say as much to anyone, but it shook him.

If Kakashi could fall, could betray the village, surely anyone could.

“What do you want,” he asks again, dully, because he wants to cry but he won't do it in front of Kakashi. Even if the tears are _for_ Kakashi, Obito refuses to show him that much softness. He’s already cried for Kakashi, did it when he finally realized who he was fighting, and Kakashi mocked him then. He won't let it happen again.

There's a pause, as taut as a koto’s strings. Kakashi hums, light and lilting, and says, “My grandmother slept with Tobirama a few months before he died. When the baby was born with white hair, she gave him the Hatake name to keep him safe, instead of trying to get him accepted as a Senju.”

Obito swallows, trying to work through the implications. “You're—you have Senju blood,” he says. “You have _Tobirama_ ’s blood. That’s why Madara found you?”

The humorless curve of Kakashi’s smile is only just visible through the fabric of his mask. “His motivation was spite, I assume,” he says mildly, like this is uninteresting, unimportant. “He thought corrupting Tobirama’s grandson would be a coup. One last little bit of revenge against a dead man.”

Belatedly, Obito recognizes the past tense, and he pulls back. “ _Was_?” he demands, and his voice cracks. “You mean—”

Kakashi twirls Obito's chair around, scraping the legs across the floor with a squeal that makes Obito wince. Sweeping his cloak around himself, he drops down into it, stretching out his long legs like he’s relaxing in his own home, and then gives Obito a cheeky smile, daring him to protest. “Was,” he confirms breezily, and the White Light Chakra Sabre is all too obvious when he drops a hand to rest on the hilt. It looks freshly polished, and Obito has a feeling he knows why. Not that Madara's death is any great loss to the world, but—it’s one more sign that this Kakashi isn't anything like the brusquely kind, devoted boy he used to know.

“Don’t make that face, Obito,” Kakashi tells him, and that smile is the most dangerous expression Obito has ever faced. “I came to congratulate you. Hokage is quite the promotion, even if you did get it because you were the only living candidate.”

Obito can feel his fingernails digging into his palms, has to breathe though the memory of vast, endless darkness with only a campfire to keep it at bay. “I wasn’t,” he snaps, and when Kakashi frowns, his control slips, his voice rising again. “I _wasn’t_ alive! I tried—I tried to keep Nagato away from Naruto, but Six Paths against one Sharingan was never going to be much of a fight.”

Kakashi pauses, and for a long moment he doesn’t even move. Finally, he says, “You sacrificed yourself to protect that student of yours? I'm astonished. How out of character, Obito.”

There's a strange look on his face, something Obito can't quite read, but he doesn’t care to, either. Lifts his chin, squares his shoulders, and gives Kakashi a look that dares him to say anything more. “You know exactly what I'm willing to do for Naruto, don’t you, Kakashi,” he challenges, and if his voice cracks halfway through, that’s fine. He’s at the point where he doesn’t give a damn anymore.

Kakashi chuckles, pushing up from the chair and coming closer. He circles Obito, slow, steady steps, the look on his face enough to make shivers crawl up and down Obito's spine. Not entirely from fear, to his shame; Obito spent twenty years worshiping this man’s memory, and finding out where exactly he’d run to after Sakumo's death wasn’t enough to break the habit of two decades.

“I do,” he agrees easily. “And you know what I'm willing to do to get my hands on the bijuu, Obito.” Leaning in, he lifts the hat from Obito's head, gently sets it on the desk, and keeps moving. “I really did come to offer you congratulations, you know. Hokage. That’s exciting. How does it feel to be the leader of a village that’s willing to turn its back on a good man for following the ideals they're supposed to cling to? How does it feel to be the leader of a village with the blood of innocents on its hands? _And_ you're a single father. That’s admirable. To…two children?”

“Three,” Obito snaps. “And one of those is _directly_ your fault.”

“Me as in Akatsuki,” Kakashi clarifies, but his smile hasn’t wavered. “Not me _personally_. Madara was the one who set the Kyuubi on Konoha. And he’s the one who killed Namikaze and the previous jinchuuriki.”

“Her name was _Kushina_ ,” Obito hisses, and all he can think of is the moment he found her and Minato, a hasty, unpracticed use of Kamui dumping him behind the barrier seals. He’d practically stumbled over them, and he barely had time for Kushina to press Naruto into his arms and make him swear to take care of him. They’d _died_ because of Madara, because of some old grudge against the village, and Obito will never, ever forgive the bastard for that.

“Ah yes,” Kakashi muses, like he can't hear the warning in Obito's voice, or more likely simply doesn’t care. “And then Sai and Karin, right? A cute little family.”

“If you even _try_ to touch so much as a hair on any of their heads, I’ll rip you apart with my bare hands,” Obito tells him, and means every word of it. “My family is _off limits_.”

“That’s not how this works.” Kakashi steps in, ignoring the way Obito goes tense and stiff, and absently straightens the fall of red silk over his chest. “Naruto is a jinchuuriki, and someday I'm going to have to take the bijuu inside of him. That’s always been what I'm after.”

“I know,” Obito whispers, and they’ve clashed multiple times already over just that. Obito spent two years practically glued to Naruto's side just to foil all of Kakashi’s kidnapping attempts. He takes a breath, looks up to meet Kakashi’s eyes, and says with all of his conviction, “I’ll stop you then, too.”

That strange expression is back on Kakashi’s face, and from this close Obito can't help but see it. “Like you stopped Pein?” he asks, faintly mocking. “Are you going to die for Naruto again, Obito?”

“If I have to,” Obito says fiercely. “Those who abandon their comrades are worse than trash!”

“Worse than trash,” Kakashi echoes, and he’s smiling again, just a little. “I think so, too. That’s why I left. Konoha doesn’t live up to the hype.”

“Some people didn’t,” Obito admits, but he holds Kakashi’s eyes, doesn’t let himself waver. Doesn’t let himself think that Kakashi is one of the only opponents he’s ever had who doesn’t fear the Sharingan. “But we’re better than that. We’ve moved forward. Konoha exists because we all protect what’s precious to us, and we fight together to stay standing. We’ve come a long way, Kakashi, and we’re _better_ now.”

Another long, stretching silence, tense and fraught. And then, finally, Kakashi laughs. He reaches up, cupping Obito's face, and Obito isn't clever enough to flinch away from his touch. Wants to lean into it, even, because he’s an _idiot_ and Kakashi used to be the person he admired most in the world.

“You mean _you're_ better,” Kakashi says, and Obito can't even begin to read the look in his eyes. “A softhearted crybaby took over Konoha, and it’s the best thing to happen to the village in a century.”

“I'm not a _crybaby_ ,” Obito protests, but as if to prove him a liar Kakashi brushes a thumb beneath one of Obito's eyes, leaving a streak of wetness across his cheek.

“Of course not,” he says, and it’s patronizing, but his tone doesn’t match the expression he’s wearing. “You’ve just got something in your eye, right?”

“Shut up,” Obito mutters, but he doesn’t pull back. “You're—you just—”

There are no words, though. He _hates_ Kakashi, hates what he’s become, but it _hurts_ , too. He’d thought—

But he’d thought wrong, apparently, and now Kakashi wants to burn his world down around him and leave him with nothing.

“You’re _unbearably_ cute,” Kakashi declares, and when Obito punches him in the shoulder he laughs. “Especially when you blush,” he needles.

Obito tries to punch him in the face, and unfortunately misses when Kakashi ducks. “Screw you, asshole!” he snaps.

Giggling, Kakashi takes three steps back and raises his hands, smiling at Obito. “Careful,” he says cheerfully. “If you accidentally call in the guards, you know what will happen to them.”

The humor and the warmth curdle into fear in one sharp moment, and Obito takes a step back. He _does_ know what Kakashi will do, and he hates it. “I should pound your face into the dirt,” he hisses.

Kakashi still hasn’t lost his smile. “I think Konoha's suffered enough damage for one month,” he counters, and Obito has to grit his teeth and nod. Neither of them is lacking in power, and just about the only safe place for them to go head to head is the middle of an empty forest somewhere. Otherwise a lot of buildings tend to end up as kindling, and Tenzō is already overworked enough as it is.

“Did you just come to tell me that the Nidaime’s grandson is a traitor?” he demands. “Or was there actually a reason for you to show your asshole face here?”

“Maa, Obito, don’t be mean. I think you like my face a lot,” Kakashi teases, but he steps close again, resumes his circuit around Obito. It feels like being circled by a very polite wolf, or maybe a shark with table manners, and Obito can't say that he’s a fan. “But I actually did. I wanted you to know that Madara was dead. It was about time, and I think we can both agree on that.”

Reluctantly, Obito nods, just once. Since the moment Kakashi let slip—let _drop_ , because there was no way it wasn’t deliberate—that Madara was still alive, Konoha teams have been looking for him. None of them were ever going to find him, though, and Kakashi killing him is honestly just about the best they could have hoped for.

“So you're the head of Akatsuki in spirit now, as well as in name?” he asks dryly. “Apparently I'm not the only one who got a promotion.”

“I gave _myself_ a promotion,” Kakashi corrects cheerfully. “I think yours was rather more formal. But it looks like we’re still evenly matched, aren’t we? It’s fate, Obito.”

Obito wants to disagree, but their lives have run eerily parallel for too long for him to do so. He swallows, finally moves, and steps out of Kakashi’s paced circle to put his back to the wall. “What do you _want_ , Kakashi,” he asks again, sharper, and doesn’t quite dare fold his arms across his chest, even if the motion is natural. It’s too dangerous in front of a man like Kakashi.

Kakashi smiles at him, charming and warm. “Well,” he says. “I wanted to make you an offer, Obito, seeing as we’re now both the heads of our respective bands of murderers.”

Something like foreboding makes Obito's heartbeat pick up, sends adrenaline prickling down to his fingertips. “An offer,” he repeats flatly, but that might crack in his throat as well. He thinks, just for a moment, of the last time they met, a cave in Suna that lost its roof to their fight and the silence afterwards, both of them exhausted, sprawled out in the grass like it was a spar instead of a desperate battle to keep Akatsuki away from Gaara and Naruto. They’d laughed together, and Kakashi had smiled just like this, and Obito had thought _what if what if what if_ because he’s always been _stupid_.

With a hum, Kakashi reaches out, touches the scars on Obito's face. “How many times,” he asks quietly, “have you sacrificed yourself for your teammates, Obito?”

Obito doesn’t deign to answer that. He does what he needs to in order to make sure the people he loves survives. Besides, Rin always gives him that lecture, and he’s not about to bring up the memories.

Kakashi apparently takes his silence as answer enough, because he chuckles, steps back a single pace. “It’s admirable,” he says. “Especially in a Kage. You're following a long line of brave shinobi who gave up their lives for the village. But is it really worth it?”

Obito laughs, because if Kakashi even has to _ask_ that he doesn’t know Obito at all. Doesn’t have even the vaguest idea of just how much Obito loves the people in his life, or what he’d do for them. “If this is you trying to convince me to join you,” he says, “we already had this conversation. And in case you don’t remember, it didn’t exactly end well for you last time.”

With a pout that in no way suits an incredibly deadly missing-nin with a bounty higher than the next two highest combined, Kakashi rocks on his heels, lifts a hand to his heart like he’s been mortally wounded. “Maa, why would you bring that up? Your vicious little genin are _monsters_ with no ability to fight fair.”

“They used your stupid obsession with that porn book against you, and then Sakura punched you through a mountain,” Obito says, and if it’s smug, he thinks he has the right to be.

“Fighting dirty is reprehensible,” Kakashi says loftily, like he has any leg to stand on, and Obito laughs before he can help himself. Kakashi smiles back at him, warm and secret and traced with something Obito hasn’t seen on his face before, and he moves closer again, until they're practically nose to nose.

“This isn't me asking you to join me,” he says, soft, and Obito is suddenly, painfully aware of the proximity. He swallows, but can't bring himself to step back, and Kakashi doesn’t either. Catching Obito's hand, he lifts it, pressing Obito's raw knuckles to his lips. “You’ve been helping with the rebuilding,” he says.

“There's a lot to rebuild,” Obito answers, rough and unsteady with that careful heat from Kakashi’s covered mouth, and like always Kakashi doesn’t hesitate to meet his eyes despite the Sharingan. “And winter is going to be here soon.”

The expression that crosses Kakashi’s face is wry. “I don’t think the Hokage is supposed to personally get his hands dirty,” he says, and turns Obito's hand over, spreading his fingers to observe the cuts and calluses forming there. “Some people would faint at the very thought.”

“I'm not going to let people suffer when I can help,” Obito retorts, and it’s not carrying groceries for old ladies, but—it’s an impact, even if it’s a small one. Even if he’s just one of the hundreds of people working, and hardly the fastest or the most important.

“Admirable,” Kakashi says, but it’s absent, a placeholder in the conversation more than something he actually means. He studies Obito's hand for another moment, then raises his head, and that maddening smile is back. “Suffering is a funny thing, isn't it?” he asks. “Sometimes a little suffering alleviates a lot of future pain.”

 _Oh_ , Obito thinks, and there's something heavy setting in the pit of his stomach, a cold certainty that this is what Kakashi really came to talk about. “Sometimes,” he agrees, and does his best to keep his voice steady. “But inflicting suffering on the world just to keep people in line is—”

But Kakashi is shaking his head. “That was Nagato's plan,” he says. “He was a rogue Akatsuki member. Don’t lump him in with the rest of us.”

“With the rest of the murderers and criminals?” Obito asks dryly.

“Exactly.” Kakashi beams at him, and that smile is all bullshit. “We have different goals, you know. And we’re flexible, too, now that Madara is rotting in a hole in the ground. So.” He tightens his grip on Obito's fingers, uses it to pull Obito one step closer, until they're practically pressed together. Lifts Obito's hand again, kisses his knuckles with a smile, and says, “I wanted to make you an offer, Obito. If you agree, Akatsuki will leave Konoha alone. We’ll leave Naruto to his life, and we’ll stay away. No more trying to destroy the village. No more assassinations of high-ranking shinobi, even when they deserve it. No more kidnapping attempts.”

Obito's breath shakes on his next exhale. It sounds too good to be true. Akatsuki has been in the village too many times, has killed too many people. They’ve been a threat to Naruto in particular, nearly took him more than once before Obito could get there and drive them off. If Obito could stop spending so much attention and so many resources on them, if he could train his team in peace without worrying that they’ll run into Kakashi or the other Akatsuki members every time they step outside, if he didn’t have to worry about Karin and Sai being used as leverage just because they're his family—

If Konoha could be safe from Akatsuki, even just for a few years, it would be everything Obito needs to make the village _better_ and root out the threads of corruption still clinging to its power structures. The Sandaime’s reign meant a lot slipped through the cracks, and Obito has been trying for so long to fix it, as a jounin and then as the Hokage's successor. To be Hokage, have the power and the ability, and then to have the _opportunity_ with Akatsuki’s threat completely nullified—

“What do you want in return?” he asks, and the words are rough, half-strangled. There has to be a steep price for something like that, especially when Kakashi’s never showed any sign of being willing to stop or even pause his plans before.

Kakashi’s smile slides into something serious, sharp, but he still doesn’t let go of Obito's hand. “It’s a good deal, isn't it,” he says softly. “No more threat to your family, no more threat to Konoha. You could save them just by saying yes.”

“But you want something too,” Obito says, watching the way Kakashi’s lashes dip to shade his eyes. “What exactly would I be saying yes to?”

“That Sharingan of yours is something special,” Kakashi says, and his thumb traces around the edge of Obito's eye, a light brush that makes Obito shiver. “Did you know Madara had all sorts of plans for it? Both with and without you attached.”

Obito can't help but snort. “Everyone seems to think they have plans for my eyes,” he says dryly, because Fugaku has been under that impression for _years_ now. It doesn’t matter that Shisui's Mangekyō is objectively a thousand times more horrifying; Obito's is flashier, and draws attention.

“The price of being popular,” Kakashi jokes, but it falls flat, something in his tone making it sharp around the edges. “You know Obito, I have plans for your eyes, too. And if you let me take them, I’ll leave Konoha and Naruto alone forever. No tricks, no underneath the underneath, just a deal. Give me your life, and I walk away and never come back.”

 _Your life_. Obito stares at Kakashi, and he can't even begin to work out what he’s feeling. There's a cold current in his chest, a twist of something like resignation and horror all tangled up together. “You want me to—”

“Sacrifice yourself,” Kakashi says, almost gently. “You keep saying that’s what Konoha stands for. It’s an easy deal. I kill you, here and now, and take your eyes, and Konoha survives. Naruto survives. No one in Akatsuki ever touches the village again.”

Obito closes his eyes, just for a moment. So easy to say no, to reject it as a trick. So easy to say yes, to take the offer, because it will keep Naruto safe. But—

There's something in Kakashi’s face, deep in his eyes. It’s not the look of someone who’s here to kill. Obito has been a shinobi all his life; he recognizes murderous intent, even when it’s dressed up with kindness and compassion. Kakashi doesn’t have even a trace of that on his face, which means this is something else entirely.

 _Oh_ , Obito thinks again, and there's a thread of warmth rising, like laughter, like light.

He turns his head, presses his cheek into Kakashi’s hand, and looks up at him from under his lashes. “Give my life to you?” he asks quietly. “Is that what you want, Kakashi?”

For a moment it’s like Kakashi isn't even breathing. “Yes,” he finally says, just a little hoarser than normal. “But it’s up to you. I've made my offer.”

He hasn’t, not yet. Not one he means. Obito smiles, then leans forward across the handful of inches separating them and kisses Kakashi through the mask, soft and sweet and chaste. “Okay,” he says, soft in the breathless stillness between them. “It’s yours, Kakashi.”

Kakashi stares at him, and it looks more like Obito just punched him between the eyes than like he agreed to a deal. He’s perfectly silent, unmoving, and Obito stays where he is, close enough to kiss, watching those dark eyes as they finally fall to him.

“Being cute isn't going to save you,” Kakashi says, but there's a hand on Obito's side, fingers curled tight against his ribs. “I'm going to kill you, Obito.”

 _Bullshit_ , Obito doesn’t say. “For my eyes,” he says instead, even, almost light. “But it’s a good trade for Konoha's safety. You had to know I’d say yes, Kakashi.”

The silence stretches, but it’s not taut, not tense. This time, when Kakashi’s breath shudders out of him, it’s on a laugh, and he reaches up to pull his mask down. Obito only gets a blurred impression of pale skin before Kakashi is kissing him again, this time without any barrier between them, and his mouth is hot and intent, determined and almost desperate as he pushes Obito back. Obito runs up against the edge of the Hokage's desk, wobbles, but Kakashi’s hands brace him before he can even start to worry.

“I did know,” Kakashi says, and it’s on a breath of amusement and something lighter, brighter. “But I had to be sure.”

 _Sure of what_ , Obito tries to say, but Kakashi’s mouth is on his again, stealing the words, stealing the thought. Obito moans into it, grips Kakashi’s shoulders and pulls him in, and Kakashi presses his thighs apart to fit their bodies together, deepening the kiss until Obito is breathless and dazed with it.

“Do you want to know why I killed Madara?” Kakashi breathes into the bare bit of space between them, even as his hands settle more firmly on Obito's waist.

Of all the possible conversations right now. Obito chokes on a laugh, but he hitches himself up onto the desk, tangles his legs around Kakashi’s waist. “Really, Kakashi?” he demands.

The curve of Kakashi’s pretty mouth says he knows the question is silly. “It’s related,” he promises, and kisses Obito again, quick and teasing as his hands slide up, fingertips slipping underneath the formal robes.

“Tell me, then,” Obito says, right against his lips, but it’s distracted, and his breath hitches as Kakashi gives a long, slow rub against him, just hard enough to be a tease.

Because he knows _exactly_ what he’s doing to Obito's brainpower, Kakashi chuckles, reaches for the zipper of his cloak. As the fabric falls away, he catches it just for a moment, pulls something from the pocket, and catches Obito's hand again. He kisses his fingers one at a time, a gentle press of lips against his knuckles, and then says, “Close your eyes.”

Obito does it, doesn’t even pause to consider the motion. He’s stupid, and that’s been well-established, especially where Kakashi is concerned. “Is this where you stab me and cut out my eyes?” he asks dryly.

“Not quite,” Kakashi says, equally dry, but he turns Obito's hand over, and a moment later something light settles in Obito's palm. “All right,” Kakashi murmurs, and Obito opens his eyes.

There's a hitai-ate in his hand, black cloth and a faintly tarnished band, a leaf with a long scratch cut through it decorating the metal. He stares at it for a long moment, completely caught off guard, and raises his head, looking at Kakashi with wide eyes.

“I thought I could leave it with you,” Kakashi says quietly. “For safekeeping.”

Obito's going to cry, and he doesn’t even know if he wants to stop himself. The sound that breaks free of his throat could be a laugh or a sob, with no distinction between them, and he grips the hitai-ate tightly, wraps his arms around Kakashi and pulls him in, and kisses him. Kakashi’s moan is rough, ragged, and he hitches Obito up, wraps his arms around him so tight it feels like he’s aiming to bruise.

“Why,” Kakashi rasps, “do you have to be everything I value in a shinobi, and in charge of a place I _hate_?”

“Because we’re getting better,” Obito says fiercely, and the struck-through leaf is pressed hard into his palm, will probably leave a mark in his skin, but he can't think of anything better right now. “Kakashi—”

Kakashi’s mouth steals the words before he can finish, and he falls back a step, dragging Obito right off the desk. Obito stumbles when his feet hit the floor, but Kakashi catches him, keeps him right up against his body with a grip that’s something close to desperate. “Madara told me to kill you,” he says, and when he meets Obito's eyes there's nothing but honesty in his gaze. “He wanted me to kill you and all of the Uchiha. For your eyes, because his own weren’t enough. Because he wanted the Rinnegan in more people than just Nagato. And when he gave me that order, I ripped his heart out.”

Obito closes his eyes, swallows. Can hardly think through the numb horror, the reluctant realization. If anyone could manage to kill a whole clan, even one as large as the Uchiha, it would be Kakashi. They probably wouldn’t have been able to stop him anywhere close enough to in time.

“But you said no,” he says, to himself and Kakashi in equal measure.

“Very emphatically,” Kakashi says, lightly enough that it’s a joke, and gives Obito a smile as he traces a thumb across his scarred cheek. “I think he got the message about the time I drove my sword into his chest.”

Obito can image that would get the point across. “So this was just a test,” he says without surprise, and gives Kakashi an exasperated look.

Kakashi just smiles. “I thought you’d yell at me a little more before you agreed,” he says shamelessly. “You’re cute when you're mad.”

“Fuck you,” Obito mutters, but he twists the fingers of his free hand into the cloth over Kakashi’s shoulders, tugs hard, and says, “You’d better be planning to fuck me over this desk to make up for what an utter _asshole_ you are.”

It’s very gratifying to see Kakashi caught entirely by surprise. His eyes go wide, and he jerks back to stare at Obito, with an amusing trace of color rising in his cheeks. “ _Obito_?” he asks, and it’s disappointing that it’s not quite a squawk.

Obito laughs at him, kisses the faint flush on his cheek. “I wanted you to fuck me that time in Suna, too,” he admits, and the red darkens. Trying to contain his laughter, Obito leans in, kisses Kakashi quickly, lightly, and says, “Kakashi, I've been in love with you since I was six years old. We’ve been fighting as adults for _years_ now.”

This, of all things, makes Kakashi flush red, and he groans, tipping forward to bury his face in Obito's collarbone. The heat of his face is tangible, and Obito grins, tangling his fingers in silver hair to stroke at it gently. “Well?” he asks. “No response to my confession? Come on, that was _classic_ romance novel sap.”

“You’re trying to use my weakness for tasteful romantic novels against me, too,” Kakashi accuses, muffled, and Obito shivers at the feeling of warm breath against his skin.

“My students had a good idea, so I thought I’d try it too,” he admits. “And Icha Icha is trash porn with a few lines of the cheesiest romance I've ever seen thrown in, that is _not_ tasteful. At all. You actually have _negative_ taste if you like those books.”

“I love them,” Kakashi says, still against his skin. “My one creature comfort in years of planning and plotting and living in caves.” A pause, and his lips brush the curve of Obito's throat in a butterfly kiss. Obito can feel the curve of his smirk, wicked as his fingers slide down to cup Obito's ass. “Of course, then I met you again, and my fantasies ended up a lot more detailed.”

There's heat creeping up Obito's face now, too. “Fantasies,” he repeats, and when he curls his fingers over the nape of Kakashi’s neck, Kakashi shivers, lifts his head. He leans in, and Obito asks, “What fantasies, exactly?” right against his lips.

As the kiss breaks, Kakashi chuckles. “Asking out of scientific curiosity?” he teases.

“I think I have the right to know when my image is being misappropriated,” Obito retorts. “Especially for nefarious purposes.”

“They were wonderful purposes,” Kakashi defends, though his hands are busy hitching up the Hokage's robes, finding the tie and pulling it loose. “I particularly liked the one where you were my prisoner of war and _persuaded_ me to let you go.”

Obito laughs. “I bet it didn’t involve me punching you in the face, which is what would have _actually_ happened.”

“Fantasy,” Kakashi reminds him, but he kisses Obito gently, murmurs, “I think I like your idea even more.”

“What, fucking me over the desk?” Obito asks, just to feel Kakashi’s breath hitch. The hands on him tighten, and suddenly he’s spilling to the side, catching himself on the desk as Kakashi’s weight falls on his back.

“You're terrible,” Kakashi says, and Obito laughs.

“You're _Akatsuki_ ,” he counters. “I think you're worse than me.”

“And you're going to let me have my wicked way with you,” Kakashi says shamelessly. His fingers find the waistband of Obito's pants, drag across them, and Obito's breath tangles in his lungs. Kakashi hums, sounding pleased, and pushes the robes all the way off, tugging them free of Obito's arms and letting them drop. He pushes Obito's shirt up as well, lays a kiss between his shoulder blades, and lightly, teasingly rubs the hardening line of his cock over Obito's ass. “ _Hokage_ - _sama_ ,” he adds breathlessly, but Obito can feel his smirk.

“Oh fuck you and just get my pants off,” Obito groans. “That’s not a kink, shut up.”

Kakashi’s giggle vibrate against his skin as he buries his face in his back. “What if it’s _my_ kink?” he asks innocently, like his hands aren’t unzipping Obito's pants, maddeningly slow. “Rude of you to dismiss aspects of my sexuality like that, Obito.”

“I hate you,” Obito mutters, but as soon as his pants loosen he wiggles them down, making sure to lean back into Kakashi’s cock as soon as they're down far enough. Kakashi moans, sharp and startled, and his hands grip Obito's hips tightly. It makes Obito bury a smirk in his folded arms, only to lose it on a gasp as long fingers slide over his hole, Kakashi’s other hand tracing his cock.

“Hate,” Kakashi repeats. “That’s definitely what this is.”

“I can hate you and love your stupid face at the same time, asshole.” Obito kicks a foot free of his pants, hooks it around Kakashi’s ankle to tug him closer. “You’d better have some sort of lube in that dumb coat or I'm going to yell for my guard to bring us some and that’s not good for anyone involved.”

Kakashi laughs, and his fingers rub against Obito's hole, almost firm enough to slide inside. “You feel a little stretched out already, Obito,” he murmurs. “Just what were you doing this morning? Or _who_?”

“His name’s Momo,” Obito says, and has to work to keep his voice steady as Kakashi’s other hand leaves his cock to dig through his pocket. “He’s about seven inches long, pink, and full of glitter, and he lives in a box under my bed. He’s my favorite.”

“I see I’ll have to challenge this Momo for your favor,” Kakashi says, mock-serious. “Or maybe we can come to some sort of compromise. I'm not entirely opposed to sharing you.”

A finger slides in, sick and cool, and Obito closes his eyes, a breathy groan escaping before he can strangle it. “Why am I not surprised that you like to watch,” he says, but can't put any heat in it. Shivers when Kakashi rubs the pad of his finger across his walls, then retreats enough to add more lube and press back with two fingers instead of one. They twist, spread, and Obito moans at the stretch, at the pressure and the way Kakashi shivers over him. He’s had a hell of a lot of fantasies over the years, guilty but utterly able to wreck him, and this is all of that and more.

Kakashi’s laugh is a rasp, heady and full of want. “I've been watching from a distance for a long time,” he says. “Can you blame me for wanting to get a little closer? Close enough to _touch_?”

Obito sinks his teeth into his lower lip to muffle his cry as three fingers spread him open, push as deep as they can go and hook, rubbing hard into sensitive nerves. The shudder that runs through him makes Kakashi smile, and he pulls away. Obito cranes his head around, and is just in time to watch Kakashi’s pants get pushed down around his hips, freeing his cock. With a cheery smile, Kakashi leans back, makes a show of it as he tips oil out of the small bottle and carefully strokes himself, spreading it over his shaft.

“For being close enough to touch, there's not a lot of that going on right now,” Obito tries to say, but it breaks in his mouth, and he can't quite catch his breath.

“More touching?” Kakashi asks, and hums. He settles himself over Obito again, lips pressed lightly over the line of his spine, and his fingers tease the rim of Obito's hole, hook just inside of him and tug gently before sinking deep. Obito gasps, and there are sparks across his nerves, bright-hot darts of pleasure scattering into his gut.

“More touching is good,” Obito agrees, and lets his head fall against his arms, eyes closing. Kakashi’s weight on him is just enough, pressing him down, keeping him still, and when he rocks back into Kakashi’s fingers there's just enough leverage to tease him with the promise of something deeper.

Kakashi makes a low, hungry sound of agreement, and the press of his mouth teases the back of Obito's neck, the curve of his throat, the line of his shoulder before he finally sets his teeth to skin, sucks hard. A sharp gasp jars from Obito's chest, and he rocks back, takes Kakashi’s fingers to the hilt as Kakashi thrusts them forward, and moans as his cock just grazes the desk.

“Shh,” Kakashi murmurs, lets go of what’s probably going to be a spectacular hickey. His fingers slide out again, and he traces a touch up the inside of Obito's thigh, gently nudges it open further. “I like,” he says, kissing Obito's nape, “that you took time out to play with Momo on the day after your appointment.”

Obito flushes, but doesn’t look back at Kakashi. “Shut _up_ , it was stress relief. And I’ll go back to him right now if you don’t shut your mouth, Bakashi.”

“Name-calling too? Really, Obito,” Kakashi teases, and the head of his cock presses against Obito's hole, slides in just enough to make Obito whimper, and draws back. That slow, steady stretch comes again, the sharp pressure that eases with a lurch only to withdraw, and Obito groans, bites down on his arm to keep in any louder sound.

Kakashi’s breath is gratifyingly ragged against his shoulder, and he finally presses in further, a slow, careful slide that makes Obito dig his fingernails into the wood, only to pause halfway. His forehead presses against Obito's spine, breaths hard and hot Obito's back, and he huffs, “You're going to _kill me_.”

 _You’ll deserve it,_ Obito wants to say, but he can't catch his breath enough to manage the words. With a gasped curse, he pushes up on his elbows, braces his feet, and rocks back hard, taking Kakashi’s cock to the hilt in one thrust.

Above him, Kakashi makes a wounded, winded, desperate sound, and his fingers dig into Obito's thighs. A shove flattens Obito to the surface of the desk, and Kakashi tugs his legs wider apart, drives his hips up hard. The thrust knocks all the breath from Obito's lungs, makes the world swim through a heat haze, and he clamps down even as he pushes back, takes the next thrust as it drives deep. The retreat aches, want and heat and emptiness, and Obito reaches back to grab Kakashi’s hips, hauls him back in until Kakashi collapses over him with a guttural groan. His hips hitch, short, hard thrusts that Obito can't recover from, can hardly meet, has to take with short breathy cries as Kakashi fucks him into the solid wood of the desk.

Obito feels _hot_ , nerves buzzing, every thrust like heat splintering through him. He drags Kakashi in tighter, shifts forward, and Kakashi’s cock slides right over the perfect angle on his next push. With a shout, Obito clenches around him, and there's a curse, a fumble. Kakashi’s hand skims his cock, grips it, and his next thrust drives right into Obito's prostate as he drags a tight stroke up to the head of Obito's cock.

Obito shouts, not even trying to strangle it. Heat crashes through him, makes his knees buckle, and Kakashi keeps stroking him even as he drives in, hard and desperate. His cries are half-muffled against Obito's shoulder, his grip slipping, but Obito shoves back, feels Kakashi thrust deep enough to make white light spark behind his eyes, and with a cry he comes, shaking through it.

Kakashi keeps riding him, keeps thrusting, driving up with breathless, wild sounds until he finally curls over Obito's back with a choked groan, his release a hot spill that makes Obito shudder. He closes his eyes, trying to catch his breath, and strokes clumsy fingers over Kakashi’s hip.

“I'm killed,” Kakashi mumbles into his skin, and sighs, wrapping an arm around Obito. “So happily killed.”

Obito laughs, winded but warm and shivery all the way through. “I should have just taken my clothes off when I wanted to beat you,” he says. “And we could have fucked our issues out.”

Kakashi noses at the nape of his neck. “You're laughing, but it might have worked,” he says, lays a kiss on Obito's throat, and tugs him back with the arm that’s wrapped around him. Obito moves with him, and he pulls them back, carefully falls into the office chair with Obito on his lap.

With a grimace, Obito gets one leg under him. “Not that I don’t plan to have you in me as much as possible in the future,” he says, “but this is getting uncomfortable.”

Kakashi’s hands catch his thighs, helping to carefully lift off his cock, but as soon as Obito eases off Kakashi’s arms are around him, pulling him back down onto his lap. It’s not like Obito is going to _protest_ the cuddling, even though they're both exceedingly sticky and also half-dressed, so he drapes his legs over the arm of the chair and drops his head on Kakashi’s shoulder, letting out a soft breath. With a hum, Kakashi buries his fingers in Obito's hair, rubbing lightly at his scalp as his other fingers trace absently over Obito's hip.

From this angle, Obito's gaze is resting directly on the scratched hitai-ate on the desk, and he smiles a little, lets Kakashi take a bit more of his weight as he settles.

“When are you coming back?” he asks softly.

Kakashi’s arms tighten around him. “I don’t know,” he answers. “I’ll have to figure out where the rest of the members can go.”

It’s _stupidity_ , but Obito opens his mouth anyway, offers, “They can come here, if they don’t have anywhere else to go. I know a lot of them hate Konoha, or the villages, but—”

Kakashi laughs, buries his face in Obito's hair. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, but his fingers are tight against Obito's skin. “I’ll tell them.”

Obito nods, because that’s enough of a promise for now. “You love my ridiculousness,” he mutters, not willing to put much effort into the retort when he feels heavy and his nerves are still buzzing pleasantly.

There's a long, long pause, and Kakashi rests their cheeks together, breathes out.

“I do,” he says, and Obito turns his head, catches his mouth and kisses him, trying to say _thank you_ and _I love you_ and _welcome back, I've missed you_ without speaking a single word.


End file.
